Page 3 of Beast in the Badlands

RENN

I blink hard, trying to shake off the disorientation that envelops me like a thick fog after the sudden, violent jump.

The cockpit’s alarms scream at me with an urgency that feels almost alive, a cacophony of warning lights flashing erratically across the darkened dashboard, casting eerie shadows that dance across the twisted remnants of my craft.

My head throbs painfully, each pulse a reminder of the chaos I’ve just survived, and I struggle to focus my mind, as if trying to sift through the debris of my thoughts in the aftermath of the crash.

“Shit,” I curse, my voice barely rising above the din of the alarms. I press a hand to my forehead, and I can feel something sticky beneath my fingertips—blood or sweat, it’s hard to tell in the haze of confusion that surrounds me, both physical and mental.

The taste of metal lingers at the back of my throat, a bitter reminder of how close I’ve come to oblivion.

Peering through the cracked viewport, I’m met with a nightmarish scene: swirling smoke chokes the air, twisting and curling like restless spirits, while shards of twisted metal lie scattered around me.

It’s a graveyard of wreckage, and above me, in stark contrast, a fleet battle rages on, the sky alive with movement as ships dart through the chaos like angry hornets, each one a potential harbinger of death.

The distant booms of weaponry echo like thunder, a reminder that this war is far from over and that I am still very much a part of it.

Before I can fully process the turmoil outside, a jarring realization hits me: the ship’s systems have tagged me as hostile, and in an instant, the automated defenses spring into action.

I barely have time to brace myself before the ship opens fire, its weapons unleashing a barrage of energy that screams through the air, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding me.

“Damn it,” I hiss, my breath hitching in my throat as the memories flood back—just moments before, I had been flying into a black site with purpose and determination.

Now, I find myself on a collision course with oblivion, the weight of my failures pressing down on me like an anchor dragging me into the depths of despair.

I fumble desperately for the controls, my fingers slipping slightly as adrenaline spikes through me like a jolt of electricity.

The ship’s alarms blare louder than a banshee’s wail, an urgent cacophony that drowns out all other sound; warning lights pulse erratically around me, glowing like angry red eyes in the suffocating darkness of the cockpit.

My heart races as one quick glance confirms my worst fear: the side engine is dead, a gaping hole where it should be, a jagged maw that might as well be mocking my efforts to survive.

“Better hell than vapor,” I growl through clenched teeth, my voice gravelly and raw, the words more a mantra than a plan. I hit the emergency landing protocols with a sense of grim determination, yanking the stick hard to the left as if I can wrest control of my fate with sheer force of will.

The ship responds sluggishly, obeying like a drunkard stumbling home after last call—wobbling dangerously from side to side, the thrusters sputtering as I dive toward the planet below.

The ground rushes up at an alarming speed, looming ahead like a jagged maw ready to swallow me whole; rocks and debris scatter across the landscape, ominous obstacles in my chaotic descent.

A jarring impact rattles me violently against my harness, my body slamming into the restraints as the ship plows through debris fields. Each bump sends loose equipment flying around the cockpit like confetti at a funeral, a chaotic reminder of the wreckage I leave in my wake.

As I skim across the riverbed that stretches wide beneath me—cracked and dry, its parched surface marred by veins of dust spiraling across—my heart pounds against my ribs like a trapped animal desperate for escape.

I bounce violently, each jolt reverberating through my body, before finally slamming into dirt with a bone-jarring force that rattles my very core.

Metal crumples around me in a cacophony of destruction; fire erupts from every crevice, flames licking hungrily at what remains of my craft, consuming the wreckage with insatiable fervor.

I blink slowly, the darkness swirling around me like a thick fog, oppressive and suffocating.

A metallic taste fills my mouth, heavy and coppery, reminiscent of blood—a stark reminder of my precarious situation.

I attempt to spit it out, but pain erupts in my legs, a roaring inferno that drowns out everything else, making it nearly impossible to focus.

I shift slightly, and sharp jabs of agony slice through my thighs—shrapnel, jagged and cruel, juts from both sides like the vicious fangs of some monstrous beast that has claimed me as its prey.

My hands tremble uncontrollably as I try to move, but nothing responds to my commands. Panic claws at my throat, a desperate animalistic urge to flee, to escape this nightmare that has become my reality.

“Get up,” I growl through clenched teeth, but the voice sounds distant, echoing back at me like a ghostly whisper. It's as if I'm trapped in a dream where I am both a participant and an observer, unable to fully comprehend the urgency of my situation.

Instinct kicks in, primal and raw; survival trumps pain.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus, and begin the arduous task of dragging myself out of the wreckage.

The ground bites at my skin like a vengeful beast as I pull against the debris—a chaotic cascade of twisted metal and broken components that has transformed into my tomb.

Each rough edge digs into my flesh, a reminder of my mortality.

The world around me blurs as I inch forward, the chaos of the crash fading into a distant memory with every movement.

Each inch is a battle against the fire that rages in my legs, a war waged in silence, with the only sound being the ragged breaths that fill my lungs, heavy with the weight of desperation and the will to survive.

Then a shadow falls over me.

I look up through bleary eyes to see a figure—slender, human. An armed silhouette against the burning wreckage. My heart pounds louder; every instinct screams danger.

“Get back!” I manage to rasp out, voice hoarse and cracked. But before I can swing or muster any sort of threat, something sharp hits my chest with a crackle.

A shock jolts through me like lightning. My muscles seize; a bright flash blinds me momentarily before darkness swallows everything whole.